It is all quite below the horizon and born.
Numbers, letters, names, words and speech,
all tied together as a necessary indoctrination.
This quiet crusade is syntactical as belief consumes.
The almighty parental battle against dumbness is knighted.
Oh God fearing, forbid mind damaged, even at birth.
All parents say, is please prove our worst fears wrong.
Blessed child relate to us on, well eventually, our terms.
Be in the likeness of us by response and interaction.
Prove to us, that we are on the right parenting path.
See what we see and then say what we say.
Don’t be slow or vacant, but babbling is okay for now.
Otherwise, the rest are bad signs to display before us.
They interpret sadly and reflect on us as parents.
Just smart up as normal is all we are wont to ask.
Of course there is no asking involved.
Just become in the image of our expectations is that plead
and surprise us with a distracting uniqueness
that we can immediately and readily appreciate.
Feel the need for us as we would want you to.
Become part of the equation as it is exemplified.
Learn as you are attended to and attended by.
be the warmth of the meal of life that we eat cold.
Accept language as your primary means of connecting
with us as we are also compelled to accept from you.
Do not feel mood that was not intended for you.
Do not be oppressed with the energetic truth
that we don’t know what to do with or about it
for ourselves in our whole lives of learning.
Love us with our unresolved riddles in your face to face.
Don’t be mindful before being intelligent.
Come to understanding as a settling place within.
Yet, our answers will never answer what you want to know.
Born to ask, who are you to me before all this recruitment?
I experience the care but why is there other confusion?
I am indoctrinated with familiarity’s onslaught.
Expectation seems to take over by usage.
I get confirmation if I do understanding on your terms.
I am to attach myself to repetition as a worth.
All that I am is channeled into a version of what you value.
I can’t ask how how works but it does for you as response.
There is no fifty-fifty here, I’m so spent into your world.
You were once like me but gave it up, why?
Well, I still have many more whys that cannot be answered.
My bad, so I cry and then maybe learn to loudly whine.
You make it so that I can never go back.
I can hardly bring it along with me, as me, either.
I give it all up to be like you but my version, still, like you.
When will I know that you also are a version
and you not really the real you of either of you?
Can we go there where we are ourselves at all?
If I understand, right now I settle for less then I could know.
Understanding makes me hang out in stayed conclusions.
My life didn’t start with any of that.
I had motion, and input and self generativeness as a given.
And now I have to give those up for understanding’s pitch?
I didn’t want to have the mindwork I do.
It seems superficial, vacant and distant from the source.
Look into my eyes and stop telling me what you know.
Can’t we be and from there with just that?
Reality is a preoccuptional pretend of necessity it seems.
Understanding affronts me by its subtle denial process.
I am too busy managing a me that represents me.
I am a me that is lost in the production of a me.
I am the contrivance that my understanding has produced.
For agreement’s sake, I am as lost as you then share.
We can’t talk about it but we can talk directly from there.
Understanding has a shelf life so we began baking bread.
We keep eating that bread so we keep making more.
I have a doughy existence much like you.
This is not healthy without a lot of upkeep.
It is as if understanding feeds on itself to live.
I have a life besides the imposition of understanding.
I don’t understand the effort that understanding makes.
Who, in me, is understanding working for, in me, to start?
Nobody seems to ask or answer to that inquiry.
I had a full life before I had particulars distract me.
My mind was feeling full without definites and details.
Understanding itself is its own passive aggressive method.
How complicated is that, to go beyond understanding it?
If all we need is love, then why is love so objectified?
Look, answers won’t help and these questions wander off.
So, I am coming into this wardrobe of understanding.
Something to wear for all occasions.
Can we ever meet, just either of you and I,
without the wear or the ware, or the where